Saturday October 5, 2013
6:42 p.m.
Swami’s State Beach; Encinitas, California
I need to write something. Anything. To distract myself so that I don’t start crying. Again. Because I am alone. Not again. Always.
Yes, I am alone. But that’s not all I am.—Cha Cha, look where you are!
I’ve been at the beach all afternoon. After all, it’s only a five minute drive from my apartment! Have I mentioned? I live in Encinitas now.
Where?—I know. I’d never heard of it either. Then again, I knew little-to-nothing about San Diego when I moved here less than two months ago.
When I landed, I was in a rush to find a place to live. One can only sleep at an airport hotel so many nights. Hotel Circle. That’s literally the street name. As long as I stayed there, I was going nowhere. Not that I knew where to go.
Alone in my hotel room, I searched on Craigslist for my next move: a room to rent for less than $1000 with roommates about my age.
I found the perfect place! A super cute apartment living with three other girls. I was mid-daydream about us all becoming best friends, hanging out on that plush L-shaped couch in the common room, laughing about last night’s antics when I saw the email come through. Sorry, they said, they are going with someone else.
Back at Square One, I was starting to feel like I’d be spiraling around the Hotel Circle forever. But quitting wasn’t an option, so I got back on Craigslist and tried again.
Two days later, my two duffle bags and I found our first California home in a neighborhood called Hillcrest. The room was fine. And the apartment was within walking distance of shops and restaurants. My roommate, a guy slightly younger than me, was cool. And his girlfriend was super nice. I hung out with them a bunch in the beginning. But I guess they had just started dating, because after a couple of weeks, our apartment became like their little love den. They mostly stayed in his bedroom, but that didn’t stop the passionate moans from coming through the walls.
The loud sex was insufferable, but that alone wasn’t enough to make me want to move again. The real problem was the traffic. When I lived in New York, my favorite part of the work day was when it was over and I could walk home—or at least to the end of Manhattan before boarding the subway to Brooklyn. Sitting bumper to bumper was like torture to my legs, stiff from sitting behind a desk all day. I felt defeated, static, and bored.
I was at work, not working, but complaining about the traffic, when I learned about Encinitas and North County for the first time. I guess I was talking kind of loud, because Nada came over to join the conversation. Turns out, her current commute was also too long, and she was thinking about moving to Encinitas, too. We decided to team up and look for a two-bedroom together.
To be honest, Nada is a little intimidating. She’s been in San Diego for a while, and unlike me, has a full life here. She’s got a boyfriend and a bunch of friends. Though she doesn’t seem too keen on introducing me.
I feel like she’s always rolling her eyes at me. Does she not understand that I am funny?—Whatever. Nada. Schmada.
I slept late today because it is Saturday and I had nothing to wake up for. Nada was already gone when I came out of my room. She always has plans.
I packed some snacks, including a banana and peanut butter for sustenance, and headed out. Five minutes later, I parallel parked along the Coast Highway 101 and descended the grand staircase, down the California cliff, to Swami’s Beach.
I am addicted to sitting here. Breathing the air. Watching the waves.
I think I am still in some sort of shock that I live here.—I did it! Three years in the making, I made the dream come true.
Swami’s Beach is everything. Encinitas is perfect.
I live here now.